


Darkness

by AeeDee



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Master/Slave, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill from the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/tronkinkmeme/">Tron kink meme</a>, a prompt featuring Clu dominating Rinzler in front of a crowd.</p><p>This contains plot spoilers for Tron: Legacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness

The crowd roars, a wave of frenzied voices. It’s impossible to know if they are angry or excited; their thunderous noise has no clear words, no clear sound. Just violent noise, static rumbling through the arena. A cheer for their king, their valiant hero, a masked fighter that stands motionless on the stage.

But when Clu comes to stand beside him, opening his mask to reveal himself, the chant begins to materialize into a single word; a single name, almost out of spite. “ _Tron_.”

“ _Tron_ ,” they call out like a battle cry, a thousand voices speaking as one. “ _Tron_ ,” and their warrior surveys the audience, tilting his head slowly to look around. His posture proud and valiant, his back straight, legs tall. He simply watches and listens for the repeated calls of his name, listens and says nothing. Behind the black mask his expression is a mystery; his thoughts unknown.

Clu is smiling to himself. A faint murmur, to a sly, unsteady guard standing to his right, “Make the announcement.” A moment of hesitation from him; Clu didn’t appreciate it. “Jarvis,” he uses the man’s name as a threat.

“It is our understanding,” the program’s voice wavers slightly, as he hastily attempts to regain his composure; he projects the words out into the vast stadium, “This is a rogue program.”

The crowd objects among themselves; but no program is brave enough to speak above a quiet murmur.

Jarvis continues in stride, his usual confidence returning, “Ordinarily the punishment for this is immediate deresolution.” He smiles, “But our leader has decided to show mercy, and respect, for we admire his determination and bravery,” but his eyes are vacant and hollow, his encouragement empty. He knows he’s lying through his teeth.

But the crowd isn’t so quick to catch on. A brave voice echoes out, “Long live Tron,” a sound that makes Clu’s eyes widen with a subtle irritation. And another, “He who fights for the users,” as Jarvis nervously looks at his master for a response. But Clu is calm. Clu is collected. He shrugs it off, even as the crowd begins another wave of “ _Tron_ ,” calls, a rallying defense of their hero. “ _Tron_ ,” as Clu leaves Jarvis’ side without a word, and moves to stand in front of their famed warrior. “ _Tron_ ,” as Clu leans in and murmurs, “Now open your mask,” with a subtle smile. “ _Tron_ ,” as he complies, bowing his head as that black mask collapses back, ultimately vanishing to reveal a handsome face that is more somber than valiant.

And when that program looks up to survey the crowd again, his expression is vacant and still. Lips at rest, no smile or grimace, just nothing at all. Eyes that are open but unresponsive, simply drifting slowly as he continues to take in the view of all those people. All those people, calling out a name he doesn’t recognize.

“Now,” Clu’s voice is surprisingly gentle, as he runs a gloved finger along the program’s jawline, “just as we practiced, Rinzler.”

And the program nods.

-

At first there is outrage. But then.. silence. Stunned silence, as Rinzler crawls down onto his hands and knees, bent over like a disobedient animal, head bowed towards the ground. As his uniform starts to dissolve, he stares down into the glass floor and catches his own reflection, marveling for a moment as if he can recognize the image, but can’t place it. That face, from somewhere in a lost memory. The sudden realization that it’s his own, brings further confusion still.

He breathes slowly, feeling the slight rush of cold air against his naked skin as the last pixel of fabric vanishes. And he tenses slightly, suppressing a faint groan as a metal band appears around his neck and clasps shut tightly, a collar bound to a chain that materializes down his back. A faint tug, as Clu seizes the line and winds the loose end in his hands.

The crowd is active again, but their fury is disorganized and conflicted. They aren’t calling out for a hero anymore, but they’re too distressed to insult the villain. So instead they just protest. Some whine. Some shout. But no single voice is clear. There is no thunderous applause. There is no message of hope. There is no victory.

This moment is the death of their dream.

Clu places firm hands on Rinzler’s back, hands that are bare for the first time. Those hands move into place, fingers clutching his hips firmly as Clu positions himself to enter his obedient pet. And Rinzler knows what to do. He exhales slowly to relax his body, and leans more of his weight forward onto his hands to brace for impact.

He hears himself sigh. Even that sound haunts him, like it’s from someone else. Someone from his memory, someone he’d known better than he knows himself. But considering how little he currently understands, well…

When he feels the tip of Clu’s penis pressing against his entrance, he feels a faint spark of emotional, psychological pleasure. There’s something about that contact that pleases him, something that makes his body want more. And suddenly, like he’s known it so many times before, like he’s loved and savored it over and over throughout his life. It’s a feeling he’d noticed the first time they had sex, during their first session; and it’s equally as mystifying now.

But Clu is a tease, just as he was then. He holds his cock there, rubbing the head across that opening, smoothing something wet and slippery around. Rinzler doesn’t yet understand what this substance is, but he knows it’s a good thing. It brings him no harm, so he doesn’t think to question it.

A lone voice in the crowd calls out for “Tron,” but no one answers back. The heroic program is gone, damned to never respond to that name again. Not for as long as Clu can help it. And it brings a smile to his face, a smile as he reaches a hand down, trailing his fingers across the smooth ass he never imagined he could touch. Noting the feel of that perfect skin, skin that is soft and beautiful and untarnished, just as the rest of him. This perfect being, now in his complete control. And when he slips a finger inside the entrance there, that perfect body tenses, tenses and shivers just as he had the first time.

Clu only wishes he’d known how reactive Tron was; he would have thought to do this sooner. Of what use was pining after Flynn, when he could have had a partner like this… Perfect and sensitive, and now completely mindless. Mindless and apt to lose himself in pleasure at any given minute.

Clu taunts the crowd, feeling their eyes staring at him, feeling their hatred, “I want you all to see what becomes of a _hero_ ,” he spits the word out like an insult. A smile, as he slides his finger out, and starts to push in, sliding his dick inside that tight opening, “Your hero is dead.”

And as the crowd roars in protest, Rinzler’s gasping from the sudden pressure and strain of having a massive cock shoved just a tad too fast, a bit too hard inside him. But he’s doing his best to relax, he’s trying to relax because he remembers what Clu said, that resistance only makes it hurt more, that resistance is bad for both of them-

But Clu is not entirely heartless. He gently strokes his hands over Rinzler’s thighs, an idle touch that’s soothing and reassuring. He leans forward slightly and murmurs, “Shh,” and the program nods in compliance as he starts to grind his teeth together.

“ _Tron_ ,” the crowd’s at it again, and Clu just laughs as he starts to thrust in and out, rocking the program’s body forward with each push. “ _Tron_ ,” Rinzler stares at the floor to steady himself, stares down and exhales slowly as he’s relaxing, calming just enough to start to feel the pleasure building within him. Breathing slowly, he stares at the distorted reflection of himself, watches his face tensing as he’s repeatedly shoved forward, notices his own stare, half-pained and half-excited. And as Clu slides even deeper inside he stares and watches his mouth open, his lips part in an overwhelmed panting, as his arms start to shake, as he pants and pants, trying to steady himself.

“Are you alright,” Clu murmurs slightly, but it’s not from concern. If anything, he’s amused. But he knows his pet is feeling something interesting, and he doesn’t like to feel left out.

But Rinzler doesn’t say a word. He’s too lost in that reflection. A spark of pleasure; and as the crowd roars another, this time a more desperate cry of “ _Tron_ ” he can’t help but to moan, a moan that becomes a growl as feels his own cock tensing up, and starting to swell.

“Good boy,” Clu replies. A sudden and fierce tug on that chain around his neck, and Rinzler’s head jerks back up. His wide eyes take in the view of the crowd, the vision of all those programs yelling, some pointing, some jumping, others pushing their way forward. A vision of unrest.

In a way, it makes him feel what must be shame. He’s pleasing his master, but he’s doing something wrong. But what… What mistake had he made… If only he could think of it-

Ah, Clu’s pulling too hard. He chokes for a second, losing his breath. But either Clu doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care. Rinzler tries to tilt his head and chokes again, a slight pang of confusion- but then it loosens; just not entirely.

Clu keeps the pressure there, pressure enough to let him breathe but to leave a strong mark, a growing bruise as he continues to pound into him. That smile on his face, a satisfied sigh as he starts to feel a climax building, feels the blood starting to rush, the heat building-

And that sound. All that noise. All that anger, like fuel to his arousal, it heightens each sensation. It was a pleasure enough to fuck someone as perfect as this; but it was incredible to shame him in front of each and every being that loved him. A stadium full of angry noise and broken spirits and traumatized programs that would never be the same again. They would never again carry that hope. They would never again say this hero’s praises, would never again believe in a future that was more beautiful than their past.

This is the dying of a dream. With every thrust, he’s bringing Tron further away from himself; with every thrust he’s bringing Rinzler further and further into being. And when he comes, when he comes in front of everyone, that will be the funeral. That will signify the end.

Judging by the reactions coming from his pet, that moment is not too far away. His body tenses with every thrust, his insides clutching around his dick every time he slides further inside. His arms are shaking; his breathing is heavy, so loud and heavy that even Clu can hear it above the frenzied crowd. He’s not just breathing, he’s gasping; he’s gasping and panting and sighing and moaning.

For Rinzler’s part, he’s noticing his arousal. He’s lost in it, as if he’s discovering sex for the first time. His eyes, dazed and unfocused in the glass, his lips parted and unable to keep themselves closed, just exhaling hot air. He can barely feel his legs; they’re holding him up but he doesn’t know how, they’re turning numb and he doesn’t linger on it, he doesn’t care because-

When he feels himself about to come, his vision blanks, turning hazy just as he captures that final image, the image of his face relaxing, his eyes glazing over as he starts to ejaculate, his breath caught in his throat, panting with no sound as he sees the droplets of cum scattering across the glass, seeing those spurts landing only inches away from his hands, so close he could almost lean down and taste them. A part of him wants to. He wants to know what it’s like. He wants to better understand it, but-

He has to wait, because Clu’s still fucking him, thrusting in with too much of a force for him to move freely. But…

He catches the scent of his cum, as he’s reeling from a dizzying orgasm. Without thinking, he does what he can; despite Clu’s hard thrusts, he starts to crouch down just a little further, to get just a little closer to that sacred floor as he falls onto his knees, climbing onto his knees and using his forearms to support his weight.

“Rinzler,” Clu’s voice is both a demand and a question, as he seems momentarily annoyed- Until he notices what Rinzler is doing.

He’s licking the floor like a lazy cat, tongue savoring and collecting drops of his hardening cum off the glass, eyes rolling back as the flavor gets to him, really gets to him and threatens to turn him on all over again. He even gives a small moan as Clu is coming inside him, from both the rush of warmth and that sensation of being filled up, filled up as he makes love to the floor, tongue exploring and tasting that cum as if it were his lover’s.

It was just so familiar. So damn familiar, like he’d done this before, known this before.

But for a moment, when he swallows one of the last drops remaining, as he savors that aftertaste of salt; and he hears a laugh inside his mind, a sound that echoes, “ _Good job, baby._ ”

He pauses. He tenses up, vaguely alarmed. Where did that-

Another laugh, this one deeper in tone. He stares at his reflection again, eyes lost as he tries to reconcile that voice…

“Anything for you Flynn,” he murmurs to himself.

A sudden tug on his chain, as he chokes against the collar and gasps loudly, a sudden force that’s more of a punishment than a fun tease.

“That name,” Clu is growling, leaning over him as close as he can get, “Never say it again.”

He slides himself out, slowly with some resistance as Rinzler nods, “Yes.”

And that is the last word he says.

-

There is no reaction from the arena as Clu backs away from the program, and rematerializes his clothing. In uniform his appearance is striking again, the appearance of a bold leader as he adjusts the gloves on his hands and gives an empty smile. “Programs,” he announces with a bold voice, pointing to the naked program that now crawls into a standing position as the chain around him vanishes, and his clothing starts to appear once again, materializing from his feet to his shoulders, a shiny and black suit lined with orange lights, “This is your new champion, Rinzler.”

And as that program stares out into the arena his mask appears, closing around his handsome and calm face, sealing it away into darkness.


End file.
